Duncan's bike was still sitting in the Harrington House lawn, and Derby was not pleased with it being there. I couldn't blame him. The thing was unsightly, just lying there on the ground. It made the lawn look like one of those in Blue Skies, forgotten bikes and other assorted bits of trash littering the lawns in front of each trailer. Derby would have none of it. He had been patient up until now and wanted the bike gone by his awakening on Tuesday morning.
If I had been in my right mind, I'd have sought the Townies out at the carnival to return the bike to Duncan directly. But I wasn't in my right mind. Rather than giving it back to him, I left it in front of the auto shop around midnight. Let the Greasers have their fun with it, was my mindset. He had another bike anyways, didn't he? The one I saw him with on Saturday? What about all of those bikes in that Henry's garage that he could borrow?
He didn't need this.
I was just lethargic. I didn't want to make the efforts required to give him his bike back. I didn't want to deal with these problems. Out of my hands, off of my back, right?
Right.
That was all fine and good. For a while I had no problems, absolutely nothing to worry about.
Until that Friday.
I checked back on the bike earlier that week, the following Tuesday, to ensure it had been taken. It was gone when I looked, so my job was done. Derby wasn't complaining, it was out of my hands. Never again did I have to deal with Duncan's bike.
The week had passed relatively smoothly with nothing in particular to rant about. Obviously I decided against taking Chad's bike. Justin was ridiculous for suggesting such a thing. A situation where I'd need an excuse for my lack of bike never came up, so the other Preps were still unaware. I wasn't going to bring it up myself, lest I seem suspicious. But it was a pain going everywhere on foot.
Though, the more I thought about it, the more taking Chad's bike for myself tempted me.
I repeatedly saw him riding around Bullworth Vale that week when I was out for a walk or sitting under the gazebo. He was unknowingly taunting me. I wasn't mad at him; it wasn't his fault any of this had happened to me. And I wasn't exactly jealous. But surely I wish I had a bike of my own to ride. One that didn't look terrible.
But, despite everything, I swore to myself that I would never, ever steal from one of my fellows, no matter what the circumstances.
By the time Friday rolled around I was a bit antsy. I was officially out of those expensive cigarettes Justin had given me, and I was, as he put it, bike-less. Tad and Pinky were still laughing at me though I warned them that I was going through nicotine withdrawal and it was growing old. I didn't want to deal with their nonsense.
I decided it would be in my best interest to avoid other people for a while. I wasn't in the mood.
I rarely went to The Vale Centennial Garden anymore, but when I did it was usually because I had nothing better to do. I didn't have a bike to ride around on, and my friends were annoying me. That day after school the other Preps said something about going to the carnival, so I expected to find some alone time at the park.
It was a small park, with only two separate basketball courts and a few benches. Because of this it wasn't very popular among the citizens of Bullworth; there wasn't much to do. I used to go there as a child with Pinky and Tad, but even then we hardly did anything besides sit around and chat.
I sat on one of the benches, elbows resting on my knees and face buried in my hands. I was so stressed out. I shouldn't have had to deal with this many problems at once. I needed a smoke desperately, but I had none. I sat there in silence for several minutes in my own self-pity.
A groan escaped my mouth, echoed by a mocking one that was not mine.
I looked up from my hands to the sight of something I wasn't expecting.
That damned Justin Vandervelde.
He was shooting a basketball into the court hoops in front of me. I wasn't too happy to see him. As used to him following me around as I was, I was honestly shocked to see him. I thought he had gone to the carnival with the other Preps.
I glared. "What the hell are you doing here, Justin?"
He looked over to me with false surprise, as though he hadn't noticed my presence. He was full of it. He brought a hand up to his chest, holding the basketball under his free arm. "Gord! I hadn't expected to see you here!"
Justin began to approach me as I brought my face back to my hands. If I couldn't handle my friends at a time like this there'd be no way I could possibly handle a person as obnoxious as Vandervelde.
He took a seat next to me on the bench. "I was looking for you."
I laughed, not looking up to him. Wasn't he always?
"Really now, I didn't think you'd have it in you."
That grabbed my attention. "What are you going on about now?"
I hadn't done anything since our last encounter, so I honestly had no clue what he was talking about. My initial thought was my bike, and telling the other Preps the truth about what had happened. But he didn't even know the truth, so that couldn't have been it.
"I'm going on about you taking Chad's bike." Justin wasn't smirking. He looked dead serious. Mad, even.
His words took a moment for me to process. Chad's bike? "What? I did no such thing!" I almost leapt off of the bench.
He parted his legs to dribble the basketball between his feet. He held an angry air, and for that I was apprehensive. Why would he possibly think I had stolen Chad's bike? I explained to him before that I was against the idea. Actually, why would he think anyone had stolen it would be a better question to ask.
"Why, is it gone or something?"
Justin rolled his eyes, aggravated. "Don't play stupid, Vendome. He went to take it out after school and it was gone."
I hesitated. "W-Well, perhaps he misplaced it or something."
"Chad isn't as inept as you, Gord. He doesn't leave his possessions lying around."
"Well, I certainly did not take it!" I said, nearly shouting now, as I rose from the bench to tower over him.
He stood up after me. Justin was taller than I was, by about six inches, and although he was a scraggy thing, I was far less intimidating in comparison. He glared. "Well, neither did I."
But I wasn't afraid of Vandervelde. He was one of the most pathetic people I knew. I returned his glare and stepped closer, practically prodding his chest with mine at this point.
He sighed. "Look, Gord, I'm not accusing you of taking it..."
I softened a bit at that. That was good... I supposed.
"...but I am not the one who matters here, because Chad is accusing me of taking it."
I scoffed. "Why should I care about your problems?"
His anger returned. "Because, Gord, Chad is threatening to tell all of the other Preps I took it if it isn't returned to him."
My heart skipped a beat. I didn't care about Justin, but his tone was suggesting something that I was sure I wouldn't like. I stepped back, nervous.
Justin smirked. "I know a lot of things about you, Gord," he began, stepping closer to me. His voice was low and cocky. I did not like this.
I furrowed my brows in fear and brought my hands to my chest. I felt so small, like a bullied child.
"And if you didn't take Chad's bike, then you'd better hope whoever did returns it before everyone in our clique finds out the dirty secrets of Gord Vendome."
This was terrible. "Y-You can't blackmail me! How on Earth am I supposed to know where his bike went?"
Justin didn't care. He gave me one last angry smirk as he made his way towards the exit.
I didn't watch after him, since I was frozen in place. Justin didn't know many truthful things about me, but he knew some things that could be made to look terrible. He could accuse me of sleeping with Townie trash, he could tell the Preps that the Greasers played a cruel joke on my bike.
Or he could inform them of my smoking.
I cursed under my breath. This...
...was awful.
[[a/n: the way i write him probably makes it seem like i hate justin, but i actually have a huge crush on him, haha. anyways i'm sorry about how short my chpts have been lately. i'm sort of stuck between not wanting to make them too short but also not wanting to make them longer than necessary. w/e.]]